Last Night Before The End
by rockstarpeach
Summary: It’s the night before the Slayer Army and Friends face the army of The First, and Andrew is lonely. Damn him. All angsty and crap. Warnings: Slight Andrew-bashing. Xander-bashing, cause it makes me smile. Hey, Spike doesn’t like them. It’s not my fault..


Title: Last Night Before the End

Pairing: Spike/Andrew

Rating: PG, for language and sexual suggestion.

Summary: It's the night before the Slayer Army and Friends face the army of The First, and Andrew is lonely. Damn him. All angsty and crap.

Warnings: Slight Andrew-bashing. Xander-bashing, cause it makes me smile. Hey, Spike doesn't like them. It's not _my_ fault…

***

"Spike?" Andrew called out as he opened the basement door and took a few tentative steps down, shutting the door behind him and muffling the nervous chatter of the small army of slayers that was getting ready to fight what would probably end up being the last fight for most of them.

Apparently Spike had gotten a taste for the basement, when he'd been chained to cot down there, and it had become his space, a place to get away from hordes of teenage girls, and have some time to himself. Andrew felt kind of bad for intruding on that time right now, but not bad enough not to do it.

He needed to get away too, because right now, everything was just a little too real for him. They were going to fight this fight, tomorrow. He was probably going to die, tomorrow. And once he'd put his video camera down for long enough for that to sink in, it had sunk in, hard and deep.

He just couldn't take another minute of listening to arguments over weapons, or playing Dungeons and Dragons, or watching Xander and Anya make eyes at each other. He was going to _die_ for crap's sake, and he was kind of freaking out.

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes, reaching to his pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, lighting it up and sucking in a deep breath of polluted smoke. He'd heard the boy at the top of the stairs, heard his heart, his unsure footsteps, heard the rush of blood through his veins, and he'd hoped that Andrew would decide not to come down. No such luck.

"Yeah, wot?" Spike asked Andrew's feet, as they descended the stairs, and hoped that whatever the kid wanted, it would be quick. It wasn't that he didn't like Andrew. Yeah, okay he didn't, and the way he followed Spike around, begging for affection and looking at him like he was the second coming or some bollocks, made Spike more than a little uneasy.

And really bloody annoyed.

"Ah, so you _are_ here," Andrew said, when he'd come down the stairs, smiling at Spike awkwardly, and moving a little further into the room.

"Where the bloody hell else would I be?" Spike asked, without much heat behind the words, more tired, fed up, than irritated.

"Well," Andrew started to answer, as if Spike had intended the question to be serious. "You might have been out… killing things, or getting blood, or… You know… vampire stuff."

"Yeah, well, ya caught me. So what do you want, Andrew?" Spike took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out in a long translucent white line, flicking the ash carelessly on the floor.

Andrew opened his mouth to say something about that, to tell Spike to respect Buffy's house, or not litter, or get an ashtray, or something, but he changed his mind, and closed his lips, taking a few steps closer to the vampire. That wasn't why he'd come here, and he was going to do his very best not to annoy Spike too much tonight. No small feat, he knew, but he needed Spike in as good a mood as he could get him at the moment.

"I thought we could have a little talk," Andrew said, and he didn't let Spike's raised eyebrow deter him. "Before the big showdown. You know… Man to man. A little male time. Guy on guy."

Spike snorted, and he was lucky he didn't actually need oxygen, because some of the cigarette smoke went down the wrong way. "You do realise how incredibly gay that sounds?"

And Spike knew that was a stupid thing to say, because Andrew _was_ incredibly gay, and the boy really didn't say much that _wasn't_ incredibly gay. And he knew that he had a bit of a thing for him. Hell, Spike couldn't blame the guy. He was the big bad, after all, or formerly so, and still pretty damn hot, if anyone asked him.

Andrew took a few more steps in his direction, nervous and twitchy, like he always was, and he was looking at Spike like… like Spike was his bloody hero or something, the same way he always looked at him, only… more. Like Spike knew something Andrew didn't, like he had some sort of secret that would take away all Andrew's fear about tomorrow, like he had some sort of assurance that could make him feel better.

It was stupid, of course. Spike couldn't tell him anything apart from 'good luck, and here's hoping you die quick'. The same things he could tell anyone, because the chances that they'd make it through this were seriously slim. Most of them were going to die. And that would be if their little army was lucky.

But the little nerd just looked so lost and pathetic, and Spike really wasn't in the mood for any sort of bonding with anyone just at the moment, but his stupid bloody soul took over, and he couldn't just turn him away. Christ but that thing was a pain in the arse sometimes. Angel really should have warned him he'd become such a Nancy.

Spike sighed and tilted his head back, knocking it on the cement wall behind him lightly. "Fine," he sighed, and patted the space next to him on his cot, and Andrew smiled broadly and practically lunged at him, landing next to him with such force that Spike bounced on the thin mattress, the frame protesting with high-pitched squeaks.

Spike snorted, because Andrew's excitement was actually a little funny, and he took another drag off his cigarette.

"What's on your mind, Watcher junior?" Spike asked him, turning his head slightly to half look at Andrew, but mostly just stare at his boots, hanging over the edge of the bed. He really hoped this would be quick.

"Really?" Andrew asked, voice full of wonder, staring straight at Spike, and almost wrenching his body around so that he was sitting facing him, instead of side by side, with their backs to the wall. He managed not to though, just barely, because this was a much more manly position to sit in, stead of sitting cross-legged and staring at each other over the unmade sheets of Spike's bed, like girls at a slumber party. "Watcher? Me?"

Spike had just called him a Watcher! If Spike thought he was anything like Giles, that was so cool.

Spike snorted again, because Andrew just kept getting funnier. "Don't get excited, mate," he said, around another exhale of smoke. "I didn't exactly mean that a compliment. Most of those bastards aren't anything like Rupes. Bunch of uptight wankers, one's I met."

Andrew's face fell a little, but not too much. Even if Spike hadn't meant it as a compliment, Andrew was taking it as one. Hell, if he was a Watcher, at least he was something. At least he belonged somewhere.

Andrew didn't say anything for a while, just stared down at Spike's legs, thin, almost frail looking, but deceptively strong, Andrew knew, and covered in faded black denim. Spike was sexy all the time, but he was so much hotter in black and leather, then when he'd been going through his crazy, guilty phase.

"We're not gonna make it, are we?" he finally, quietly, asked. "Most of us are gonna die. I'm probably gonna die."

Spike took an extra long, extra slow puff, and blew the smoke out towards the ceiling. "Yeah," he answered, almost as quiet as Andrew, because he really wished he could have said something else, no matter how annoying the boy was most of the time. "Probably."

Again, they were quiet for a while, and Spike thought that maybe Andrew didn't want to talk at all. That maybe he just didn't want to be alone, or making mindless conversation with people who weren't, and would never be, his friends. Not on what was probably his last night on Earth. Spike could relate to that. He probably would have been with Anya, because he knew the two had been getting sort of close lately, but she was off shagging Xander. Spike shivered at that. _Nobody_ should have to shag Xander.

"You can back out, you know," Spike offered. It wasn't like Andrew was exactly a powerhouse. He'd probably only be effective in slowing a Turok-Hon for as long as it took the thing to rip the kid's head off, which probably wouldn't be very long at all. It wasn't like they'd be hurting if Andrew decided to take off tonight. Hell, they probably wouldn't even notice.

Andrew didn't hesitate. "No." No, he couldn't. He'd started this, killed his best friend because the first had told him to, opened the stupid seal that let the uber-vamps loose in the first place, and he had to be there at the end, no matter how it turned out.

"Yeah, I get that," Spike said, and after a minute, "You're an annoying little dork, Andrew, but… you're doing right."

Spike finished his cigarette and crushed the butt out against the wall next to him, making sure it had been completely extinguished before using his thumb and middle finger to flick it across the room, where it landed in a pile with half a dozen others, in a corner, and next to an old pair of rain boots, that had probably belonged to Joyce.

And then Andrew's hand was on his thigh, gripping tight, and it would have hurt if Spike's threshold was lower, and his nails would have been digging into Spike's skin, if it wasn't for his pants. The boy's pulse was pounding, his heart rate was up, and for a second, Spike thought he'd seen something, heard something, thought there was some kind of danger.

But, if there was, Spike would have noticed it before Andrew did, and while Spike was looking around for anything that could have possibly been the problem, Andrew's hand relaxed, and moved up his thigh, stopping dangerously close to Spike's groin. And then it wasn't just close anymore, it was right on top of it, fingers tense and unmoving, as Andrew turned his body and half climbed over Spike, kissing him square on the mouth.

Spike coughed, nearly choking on his own surprise, and Andrew's tongue, when it took Spike's slightly opened mouth as permission to enter, and he pushed Andrew back, trying not to send him flying with the force. Yeah, alright, he knew Andrew wanted him, but… _shit_! He never thought he would actually _do_ anything about it. He was too… nerdy, and virginal for anything this forward.

"Andrew," Spike said, and Andrew could hear how shocked he was, even in just that one word. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I'm gonna die tomorrow, Spike," he said, like that was an explanation. It obviously wasn't good enough, because Spike just looked at him like he was crazy, that 'duh, and…?' look, that said that fact had nothing to do with him grabbing Spike's package, and sticking his tongue in his mouth.

Huh. Actually, that was a good point. They didn't really have anything to do with each other. Except, they sort of did, in Andrew's case.

"I'm gonna die tomorrow," he said again, the more he said it, the more he was getting used to it. He still didn't want to, he was skill scared almost out of his mind, shaking, even now, thinking about what tomorrow would be like, but he was starting to face it, accept it. "And… and I'm a virgin."

Spike did more than snort this time, he actually let out a tiny little laugh. God, Andrew really was funny. "Yeah, never would have guessed," he said, dripping sarcasm. Andrew scowled, and Spike gave him a soft smile. "Sorry," he said. "But… just because you're gonna die without ever getting laid, doesn't mean you go around desperately molesting people."

Andrew didn't bother arguing about the desperate part. He was, and he knew that. "Not people. You," he corrected. "And it can't be molest, since you're wicked strong, and can kick my ass, so if you don't it, you can stop me. And…" he bit his lip and looked down at his fingers for a moment, before looking up at Spike again. "And I like you. Wanted you for a long time, even before this. It would just be really cool if my first time… uh, or my only time… was with you."

Son of a bitch. That just wasn't fair, the kid laying on the guild like that. Of course Spike knew how Andrew felt, and of course he didn't feel it back, not even bloody close, and he had no intention of giving in now, but he knew was going to look like an asshole for it. Andrew's fucking dying wish, and Spike was going to turn him down.

It wasn't that Spike didn't like a little dick once in a while. Oh, he more than liked it, and there were a few in particular that stood out, but… Andrew? No thanks. He just wasn't even close to his type. Didn't really think he was _anyone's_ type. Maybe Xander's…

No, that wasn't fair. Andrew wasn't _that_ bad.

"And while that's right flattering," Spike told him, sounding like it was actually more scary than flattering. "I'm gonna have to say no."

"No," Andrew denied, suddenly seeming very frantic, like a switch had been flicked, and he'd gone a little bit crazy. "No, Spike you… you have to." His shaking fingers worked at the fly of his pants, and after a few fumbles he managed to get them open, and his pants dropped to the floor so quick after that, that Spike almost blinked, and missed it.

"Please, Spike, please…."

Andrew's heart was starting to beat almost out of control, and his fingers clutched uselessly at the hem of his shirt, as he obviously tried to strip it off, and Spike was getting worried. This wasn't normal. He'd seen horny people before, seen people in desperate need of sex, willing to do almost anything for it. But nobody that looked like they'd literally crawl out of their skin if they didn't get it.

He reached out, almost without thinking, scooting to the edge of his bed, and placed his hands solidly on Andrew's hips, trying to ground him, and pulled him back down to sitting, next to him.

"Andrew," he said, trying his best to sound calm, comforting. "Relax." And his hands started to stroke soothingly over Andrew's waist, an unconscious gesture to keep him still.

Andrew stopped fidgeting, stopped ticking nervously, but his hands covered Spike's, pressing down surely and guiding them to his sides, curling his fingers in to clench around his t-shirt, and started to lift. "Please," he said again, and he was calmer now, though not by much. "Spike, I need this."

And Spike knew then that he really, really did. And it wasn't even really about sex. Yeah, that was part of it, but the boy was terrified, even though he was trying to act brave, and he needed someone to care. Needed someone to mourn him after he was gone, to remember him in a special way, and considering his not so secret crush, it made sense that he would have come to Spike for that.

Son of a bitch!

Andrew wasn't exactly high up on Spike's fantasy list, and fuck, but wasn't that an understatement. So when he found himself nodding, just the slightest jerks up and down of his head, teeth clenched tightly over his lower lip, and hands sliding Andrew's shirt up and off, Spike thought it was highly possible that he was being controlled by some unknown force.

Because he would never do this. Would never agree to this. Would never give a skinny little nerd a pity fuck, just because it was his last night on Earth. Except… he would. He knew what it was like to be someone like Andrew. Sort of. Knew how hard it could be, and knew what it had been like to die a virgin. To have nobody remember him when he was gone.

Well, his mum had, for a couple of days, but… yeah, he didn't want to think about that. The half erection he'd managed to achieve started to flag just at the notion.

But he felt _bad _for the kid, and it must have been the _stupid_ soul again. He had to remember to track Angel down and kill him. Slow, and painful. More slow than hot pokers through his entire body, and more painful than Mozart, because the bastard should have fucking warned him he'd wind up like this.

He moved one hand to the back of Andrew's head, and pulled him close, closing his lips over the boy's.

***

Afterwards, when they were lying naked together on bent coils and lumpy mattress padding, half-covered by a set of sheets in dire need of washing, Andrew smiled.

He might be dying tomorrow, but at least his last night of living had been a good one.

END


End file.
